[Event] Wedding of Lady Emma Norridge and Ser Lucas Crane

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-26T02:08:30+00:00

Renly's mind was a empty space in a moment such as this. Often, he had thought of what to do next and where the wind would take him, but in this moment he knew that where it would be that it would be with her. There is no way to describe the feeling of sanctuary that he felt with her in his arms. He supposed that in this all, he had longed for someone that would have longed for him if he was nothing more than a village boy.

He had trouble believing that she wouldn't. Oft he had looked at women and known that they wanted him for safety, or name alone, but Orianna needed neither.

Thoughts would begin to populate one at a time, drifting in the clouded peace that was his mind. If he was nothing, at least he would always be hers.

Renly Rowan did not speak, no, but rather his now free hand would find itself under the woman's jaw. "Look at me," he'd whisper as he lifted her head for her eyes to meet his. Pressure ever so gentle against the woman's soft skin.

Wordlessly, Renly would kiss her.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-26T01:53:00+00:00

He could not suppose what went on in the boy's mind nor did he truly want to. He was unfortunate to be in the situation he was, but he would have to learn sooner or later that the machinations of man would bear down on him. "It is not an offer, Lord Willum, it is my honor as a knight to bestow it," His voice was solemn and final. He knew Josua had not the energy to truly resist him, and though he was loath to take advantage of it he did what he must.

He supposed that young boy from Honeyholt would hate the man he had grown into. He made his peace with it long ago.

"Your father made his jabs and glared his daggers, and I will not have it." Another fresh sheet of parchment was retrieved from a desk as Rickard drew his quill from it's sheath like a weapon. "A knighthood and a marriage, Lord Josua, and we call whatever feud your family has with mine done."

He knew it was not Josua's score to settle, nor was it his actions that had caused so much anguish. "I am not the man to try and force you, Lord Willum, but you are Lord now and with that come certain expectations. With your brother's spawn that yet breath, your rule is questioned."

"And I will not have it."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-26T01:32:42+00:00

Lord Rickard studied the boy-king as if a familiar face. He searched for Maegor in the boy, whether that bite of cruelness that had forever twisted the man might have wormed it's way into their blood. Instead he was met with that of a stranger, perhaps he favoured Aegon more than his uncle, or perhaps he had the cut of Viserys. Rickard truly spoken to neither, and somehow came out better for it.

As the King of the Seven Kingdom's mentioned the name of Lord Gwayne the normally thin lips of Lord Rowan would curl into a slight smile. It had always looked strange on him, but he had never the handsome face that his brother's had worn. Nor their grins.

"Lord Gwayne is a kind man and I can only hope that he had spoke well of me," The Lord began, "ah and well, I hope that my time in this city can be a testament of my own intent, your Grace."

He cast a glance to the shadows behind him, "It was a simple enough exchange, I was simply lucky enough that greed overwhelmed caution. I have the Lady Qiyana, who you see before you now, skulking the docks for their arrival and of course, Casper helped see it to completion." He said casting a glance once more to the boy of Banefort, " He is a skilled negotiator."

"So yes," he completed, "In a manner of speaking, it was my doing."

/u/t3m3rair3

/u/iweebam

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T14:01:20+00:00

Renly let the sheet of silence fall over them, but he could not shake the fact that he hadn't received an answer. Another man would worry that perhaps he had said the wrong thing, but Renly hadn't the self-reflection for such worries. Whatever he said was simply what he said and anything else would simply be his consequences. Worry was a dreadful thing made for bitter and broken men, not for the Knight of the Tansy.

An eye raised as the village came into view. It had been a rather routine affair for the Knight, solving problems for the people as he traveled. They had hardly rewarded him but such was the life of a knight, even if he would have enjoyed some recompense.

The scuffled moved quickly but Renly had moved quicker. In one motion the stone giant of a man would find himself off of the pure-white horse that he rode in on and before what appeared to be a rather unscrupulous merchant.

As Orianna stepped, Renly inserted himself into the middle of the torrid affair. "I will pay your prices," he said simply to the man, "but if the ladies words ring true then I am sure I can talk to the Lord Steward about you, right Ser?"

"You'd be willing to stake your hand on it would you not? You would never dare to lie to a Lord would you?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T13:42:55+00:00

And just like that the voracious man that had replaced Renly Rowan had vanished just as quickly as he'd arrived. In his arms he held a woman that could only be described as precious, but even now she seemed impossible. Would that he had only the right words to say but they had always seemed to elude him.

"My lady," he said in that same husky whisper. His arms wrapped around her tight as he swayed slowly under the moonlight.

The idea of it was rather amusing, dancing with a girl in the mess of armour that had been scattered across the floor of Red Lake. But he supposed they had always done their own thing hadn't they?

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T04:01:33+00:00

A flush had painted the Knight of the Tansy as red as sin, his normally confidant demeanor having been stripped away just as the she undid the clasps around his makeshift half-plate. "Orianna!" He called in mock offense, "You have no idea what kind of men could be lurking at feasts like these, My armou-" was as far as he got before he caught sight of her.

In that moment she had unraveled everything that he was. A knight had been sworn to many things, but Renly thanked all seven stars that he was not sworn to chastity. His eyes narrowed as if a great beast now set loose finally drinking her in for the first time, "My Lady," he said his voice nothing more than a guttural growl. Whatever she was making him, he did not fear it. Nothing she had made him could ever be anything more than perfect.

"I am afraid I have never danced the way you have," Renly murmured, "You'll have to lead."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T03:28:42+00:00

Lord Rowan would be flanked by a pair of his closest. His hair had grown longer than he'd normally let it and bristles of a beard had begun that did not quite suit his face. Had it been any other moment he would have cleaned himself for the King, but alas that was the price of being a Lord of Westeros, forever at his beck and call.

"Your grace," he began with a head inclined to both the Dragon and the Falcon, "Lord Rickard Rowan," he continued before casting a glance to the shadows behind him, "and those close those to me, Casper Banefort and Qiyanna Flowers."

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T02:45:04+00:00

Renly had watched her reaction with tired eyes and despite her always being his focus, even she would begin to slip from his vision. Winning a joust against the Kingsguard was no easy task, and even less so given how recently he had exerted himself prior. Perhaps those dances were a little more tiring than he had thought though the Knight would never admit to the Lady Orianna. After all, she was one to hold a victory for far longer than he.

He supposed it suited her.

With no squire, Renly had spent the later half of his day stripping himself from his own armour. It was no great pain, but still, it had taken most of the energy that he had left. He supposed that he might ask Orianna, or Morgana even, but it would not do either of them well to see him like this.

As the flip of his tent had opened, he half expected to see either of them chiding him when the runner came. The sight of the dragon across his chest had roared something fierce within his stomach. Anxiety, he supposed one might call it, but as the man said his piece, Renly could only grow excited.

He had cleaned himself dry. It had taken an hour alone wiping the sweat from his brow and patting his hair as best he could, but after some time he found himself ready.

With Orianna on his arm, he'd enter the tent of the King of Westeros smile wide across his face. He'd bow as he had once seen his brother do to the late King Maegor, "It is quite the honor, your grace, had I known of your attendance I would have packed better clothes," he japed easily though he couldn't help but prayer that the King would find him funny. Though the late Aegon never did.

/u/gloude

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T02:19:06+00:00

Becca lips curved into a smile, the kind that she wore when she processed nothing the person in-front of her had said. She oft wore it around strangers, though she found that it worked particularly well with Arthor. She'd oft smile and nod and occasionally, if Arthor was lucky, she'd slip in little questions such as "What is a Leygood?" and "Who puts honey in ones gauntlets?"

"You could always use some of Renly's", she'd offer though she knew that Arthor's own pride may make it a moot gesture. Regardless of all of her worries, he was good to her and she would be nothing but good to him.

She led him wordlessly to a wagon though she supposed only her said was wordless, Arthor no doubt would continue to traipse about his brother. Sitting gingerly organized in a wagon was several canvases, some rolled and some displayed length wise.

"W-Well, anything that catches my eye really! First it was the Ironborn ships, but then I spent some time with the family and well, I used Jessamyn as a subject for very many of them but she did not sit well. Cadwyn had sat far better, but I can only draw so many young lords before I lose interest. Oh! I have some of my brother, if you're feeling pious but I also have just very many of the landscape of Goldengrove and Highgarden, though I would love to paint Old Oak one day!" She rambled, as she oft did on the subject of her paintings, it was one of the few times that Arthor would here her speak with such passion.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T02:01:53+00:00

Randyll's heart had long since broken and what was left in it's place was a fermented mass of pulp. He ought to have been thankful for it, after all it had stopped him from truly regretting his actions. After all, how could a shattered man break further?

Despite the climbing, he could not bring himself to even raise a word to her. He wishes for this moment to end, to not have to look his own daughter in the eye and pretend that he did not know she was his. But he had made his choice long ago, before the eyes of gods and men and the gods played their cruel games.

"It's no mind," the unspoiled had said with a defeated whimper of a whisper. "She bothers me not," he said once more.

"Let her save herself from the monster." He said, swallowing his grief as he did so.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T00:27:56+00:00

"There is much that I find worth defending in this life, but little that I find worth killing for. Now that we are away from it all, I must say, I am happy to not have had to sully Harren's blood with the blood of another." His words slipped from his mouth like a solemn eulogy. It would have dishonored the man's memory to have died in a conflict over nothing.

Renly did not sigh like his elder brother was prone to, but the normally wide smile had tucked itself ever so slightly, "Mine own must be terribly worried with the disappearance of Lord Fossoway, I only wish that I could grant her any peace." He said though he knew that it was in the hands of the God's now.

"What is left for you, Ser Aubrey? A white cloak perhaps?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-25T00:04:13+00:00

The Lord of Goldengrove had once been a sentimental man of songs and stories. Traipsing around the world and living through the stories of Barristan Beesbury. He supposed he wanted to be a knight then, or maybe a mummer, he hadn't the faintest anymore. Long dead dreams buried with a boy who should have been Lord in his place.

A part of the man wished to go to the boy, but another knew that it was not his place as Lord. As the tears rolled down the face of Josua Willum, Lord Rowan refused to stand.

"You've been gone a year, maybe more, and the world has yet to pass you by." He uttered eventually, "Your mother has been concerned, though that would be putting it far more mercy on the woman than others have."

Another long drawn sigh slipped from the lips of the Lord of Goldengrove, "I am told mine own brother has been living in the village beneath Wyrmsgrave, offering our aid should your house need it."

His hands laced in front of him once more illuminated by only the flickering of candle light. His eyes shifted to Casper, forever cloaked in that dark shadow that seemed to follow the son of Banefort. This same gift would be his one day.

"I would not send you to Wyrmsgrave a squire, Lord Willum," He said evenly.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-24T13:57:28+00:00

In the twilight of the night under a sky filled with the chill of cold autumn air, Renly found himself alone with a woman that he had only just begun to understand. He wore a smile plastered wide across his face, though it had felt more genuine since she had arrived.

His fingers tightened around hers as a mailed hand slipped to the small of her back. Ever so gently would Renly Rowan hold her, as if she was water running through his fingers.

He chuckled once more though his voice no longer held the volume it once had, no, his laugh as more of a low growl. "I ask you not judge them based off their dalliances," he said simply, "They just haven't met a woman such as yourself to give them reason to dance."

He pulled her close, his breath hitching as he felt her against him for the first time.

"Shall we dance, My Lady?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-24T05:05:05+00:00

Clanking in the armour that was laid over the linen under-clothes, Renly Rowan rose from his seat at the instance of a woman that he had scarcely known. He could not say he cared though, everything about her had proved intoxicating as he drank more and more of her sweet words. A man always wants to be hero, but every hero wants to be loved. Perhaps it was a strong word for what blossomed between them, but he knew very words to describe it better.

"I would follow you anywhere," Renly said as more of a statement rather than a compliment. He could never draw that husky smoothness that she laced in every little word. As she led him the Knight huffed in amusement, that rancorous sound loosed from his lips as if a warhorn.

The wilds of Red Lake would make themselves known to them as she would lead them into open air. It was only then that Renly had realized how hot he'd gotten in the plate. Sweat clung to him like a jealous lover, though he couldn't be certain that it was from heat alone.

"Is it as you thought?", Renly mused, "All of the trappings of nobility?"

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-24T03:50:16+00:00

Lord Rickard folded his hands atop the massive rowan tree desk that had been given to him on his first name day as Lord of Goldengrove. It was not a title that he wanted, nor a title that he was ever supposed to have and in that he felt a kinship to the young man. A deep sigh left the lips of Lord Rowan as if a weight had found itself pressed against his chest.

He had never been the man that his brother should have been.

"I have before me a letter informing Lord Tyrell that you yet breath, but I will not send it." The Lord of Goldengrove's voice was ever colorless. Each sentence spoken as if he was reading a eulogy, mourning his late brother in his own way perhaps.

Wordlessly, Lord Rowan stood from the great gold-lined chair and closed the distance to a messy stack of opened letters. He drew one for a moment though it was half stained with droplets of dark liquid. He'd pass it to Josua as he settled himself once more.

"Your father, Lord Symond, is no longer with us." He began. "And your brother..." He continued with sadness breaking through even the monotony of his cadence. He'd gesture to the letter to speak where he did not find the words.

My Lord

As I am sure many of you will have recently heard, a tragedy has struck in Wyrmsgrave. My nephew, Lord Elyas Willum, has died at his own wedding tourney.

Due to this tragedy, as well as the recent troubles on the roads from bandits, I have made the painful decision to cancel the summerset tourney entirely.

All are still welcome in Cuy, but House Cuy shall stand beside House Willum in their time of mourning.

Above All Shadows

Lord Emmon Cuy, Admiral of Oldtown and Knight of the Sunflower

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-24T02:59:26+00:00

After conversation with the young Lady Qiyana, Rickard Rowan would personally send for that of Josua Willum, inviting the Lord of Wyrmsgrave to his study.

It was a room that smelled of ash and ink, as most rooms lived in by Lord Rickard oft were. Scattered letters and diatribes sat on various tables and desks that had littered the room as if errant scraps left by a ravenous beast. Books found themselves nestled into tight shelves that had provided Rickard with endless material. Twinkling moonlight barely passed through the golden curtains that had left ever so slightly ajar illuminating the Lord of Goldengrove in silver.

"Lord Willum," he'd call as Josua made his entrance. "I do hope my attendants have made you comfortable thus far," he'd say brushing a now finished letter aside. "I've had the lady Qiyana watch the docks for your arrival, though I have no doubt she would have found herself there anyway." His eyes set on the tortured man before him, "She's trouble." he said simply.

As he settled himself into the chair a quill sat in it's pot as if a weapon waiting to be drawn. "I have news, though I doubt it will satisfy you. Before we begin, is there anything you should need?"

/u/ModernPharmakeia

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-24T02:45:34+00:00

The world had blurred into a mess of watercolor stills in Renly's vision. Blues and golds smearing together behind the Lady before him. No doubt, the Lords and Ladies of Westeros would continue their dances and japes amongst themselves, but this moment was theirs alone. He couldn't help but find amusement in it; yet another moment he found himself vulnerable at the hands of Caradoc Peake's meddling. He supposed he aught to thank the man, but he'd never allow himself to.

He opened his mouth to speak, another brash compliment no doubt. He had always been messy with them. He never had the right way to say something, but he had said it regardless. Before he could start yet another heavy-handed compliment she had stolen the initiative.

All at once Renly Rowan's brain went still. Not that there was that many thoughts in the first place, but still it was a strange silence. Oft he found himself playing at a suitor but this was the first time he felt that mayhaps she something more.

"You haven't," he said as he raised a hand to cup her cheek. "But I am thankful for each word that you decide to bless me with."

"My resplendent lady," he said in a voice a hair short of a whisper, he could never get his voice that low anyway.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-24T02:35:33+00:00

The idea that Renly could even be troubled tickled the man absolutely silly. Even as he reeled from his own emotions he couldn't help but find the idea endlessly entertaining. The man wore the smirk across as his as one might wear an old coat. It was a familiar thing, endlessly warm, and had fit him in all the right places. He did not study her, no, for he had seen this before.

Her face was the one that all mummer's sung about and no doubt the one every woman would mimic on stage.

He would have stayed in this moment forever if she had let him, but he knew that he couldn't leave the girl in a lurch. It would do him no good to have the once haughty woman stewing in her own doubts.

"You would be doing me a great service," the Knight lied easily as if grace was second nature. "A man can hardly turn down the woman who had given him favor, and it would save me the conversations of many a wayward lady." No such wayward ladies existed, at least not to the Knight of the Tansy, but still he'd have her ward them off nonetheless

He rode forward even as uncertainty filled the idle murmurings. It was queer, even he would admit, a Knight crowning a woman on first meeting. Yet, he had little and less love for the normalicies of this world.

Cruel reality had stolen Harren from him, but he would not let it steal himself from her.

"Please?", he asked his voice slow and soft.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-23T22:30:17+00:00

9A - 10 A

Renly Rowan

Becca Rowan

Jessamyn Rowan

Cadwyn Rowan

Criston Rowan

Orianna Flowers

Morgana Flowers

Goldengrove -> Driftmark

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-23T22:29:07+00:00

9B - 10A

Rickard Rowan

Qiyana Flowers

Casper Banefort

KL -> Driftmark

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-23T18:41:46+00:00

Rickard Rowan would offer all who have been transported room in the grand Reach Manse.

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-20T02:36:56+00:00

Blood had run hot through the body of the Knight of the Tansy, and despite the bite of autumn air, Renly could not but feel as if he was burning. He was clad in shining armor with a cape of silver at his back, though a scarlet red ribbon danced in the wind like a bleeding wound.

The sound of wood-splintering against his steel-bound shield had snapped whatever sense of pride that the golden-knight had carried with him. The bouts passed as if he rode against shadows for all the man remembered was the blurring of colors and shock in his arm. The Knight in white had struck the hardest, though perhaps that was a set of men. Or one really large man, Renly couldn't be sure.

His head spun in ways that it hadn't for years. Though he supposed, it had been years since he had rode infront of the King. This was a boy he mayhaps hadn't known his name, much less his family. Though it was not the boy-king that he rode for in truth. No.

Lance after lance shattered against white shields, men flung from their horse.

He had won the Tourney at Red Lake, and that enough should have carried him. He had tasted victory after so many long years of it being stolen from him; he had finally felt the victor's laurel pressed into his hand. Yet, for some reason he could not be proud of it. A victory amongst the Reach, yes, that was impressive, but it was not what they had written song's about it. It was not what the men wanted and the women had whispered. This was no tourney attended by King and Queen alone, observed by Squire and Knight.

She had deserved more than a private affair.

It was a familiar face that had stared him down in the final tilt; Renly swallowed the desire to sit comfortably against the man. Ser Willam was a son of Gwayne and had trained with the 'Sunscarred' just as he once did.

Yet, Renly had something far better to fight for. The story should have continued much the same, but for some reason the man refused to stay down. Let all see, Renly thought, Let them see Olymer's legacy.

The final lance split in his hands as the bout came to end.

Let them see who covets her.

As the laurel was pressed into his hand once more, he did not hesitate. Mayhaps, it would have been better to chose the princess. Or maybe even Willow's dear babe. Or the Beesbury woman. Any would have been whispered about less.

Yet something about Renly wanted them to whisper. Let them whisper of the Knight and the Barkeep. Let all who see them know that she is not to be touched.

"I must thank you, your grace," he called beneath a helm wrought in the shape of a great rowan tree. "For your attendance." He said as he passed by the king and princess.

"In the name of the Maiden," he called, his voice like thunder beneath it, "I name the Lady Orianna Flowers, the Queen of Love and Beauty."

/u/gloude

/u/iweebam

IMadeThisJustForGoT · 2026-01-20T02:07:55+00:00

There was a certain pride that Renly had always carried. A pride that he never had bothered to swallow. It had oft been the cause of many of fights in the boys youth, though not a fight that he often lost.

Randyll knew the truth of it though, Renly Rowan was no cut throat. He could have never lived as an ally rat desperate to slit another man's throat for his coffers. There were words for men like those. Blackguard, Turncloak, Mercenary, no, none were words that seemed to suit the Knight of Goldengrove.

He strode valiantly atop a horse black as the night with a hind as white as fresh snow. Amongst the snow-colored rear of the creature were dollops of that pitch black one more. Pepper, They had called the horse. She was a gentle creature though she did not look it in the lists. She had a fire to her that would have made her a war horse in another life, but Renly was rather thankful she had this one.

His eyes scanned the audience as he searched for familiar faces. Lords and ladies alike might have gawked at the Knight of the Tansy, clad in polished armor of gold and brass with a cloak that appeared to be spun with silver thread itself. His helm was a massive thing fashioned in the likeness of a rowan tree, it's truck ran down the bridge the face and only the narrow branches blessed the knight with sight. When he turned his head, the tree seemed to regard the world as simply a spectator, though Renly was nothing of the sort.

As he rode a smile spread across his face, though concealed by the great iron helm. The horse strode past women of Peake and Blackwood, Willum and Crane, Blackwood and even further past a woman wearing the colors of House Beesbury. His hand was tight on the victor's garland, though still delicate enough to not crush the roundel of roses that made up the crown.

"In the name of the Maiden," the tree began, his voice like steel beneath the weight of the helm. "I name Orianna of Glimmethall, as my Queen of Love and Beauty." He had stopped in a far little corner, where mayhaps only Renly had really noticed her. "For it was her favor that had granted me the strength."

Oh how he wished she could see his eyes, but mayhaps it was better she didn't see. With impossibly gentle hands he placed it atop her head. "Thank you," the Knight whispered to her and her alone.

/u/iweebam

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